A Mother's Love
by The Summerfly
Summary: Mu finds a young child on her walkabout of the world after her Mentor is killed. Five year old Harry Potter is malnutritioned, beaten, bruised, and terrified; Lord Aries takes him home with her to Jamir- and life is much better.
1. The End Of The World As We Know It

England was, by far, one of the strangest places that Mu had visited. The people were unique, of course, but she found that true of most places, and the buildings were nothing like what she remembered of Sanctuary, certainly not at all like her home in Jamir, and they could absolutely not be compared to any place in Asia she had visited in the last four years. She supposed the ridiculous change of architecture was up to the people, though.

What bothered her the most was probably the fact that people stared, as though they had never seen a lavender-haired teenager before. Although she supposed that her clothes, quite traditional for Tibet, did make her stand out a bit among people wearing black suits that appeared made for no other purpose than to be impractical. It was obscure! Surely they must know it was nearly sunset?

Speaking of sunsets, it was time she began her own way home, wasn't it? She could come back and continue exploring sometime next week.

This plan in mind, the fourteen year old turned into the nearest alleyway- and nearly tripped over a tiny frame that whimpered and curled in on itself.

A part of her- her womb, rather than her brain- recognized it instantly for what it was; a beaten, bleeding child, too small, too thin, too frail to be healthy, too feverish to be considered lucid even slightly. Sadly, that made asking him much of anything very much pointless, so she could not ask who would do such an awful thing to a child.

It was not only inhumane, but it made her honestly want to hurt the perpetrators, and that was something hard to do. She was a pacifist by nature, after all.

There was no one around who seemed to care the child was there; he was half-hidden behind a dumpster, as though purposely left there so no one would find him until it was too late to save the poor thing. His clothes were tattered rags about ten sizes too big, and the most revolting color green Mu had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

It was obvious to anybody, from the grandest Titan to the lowliest insect, that this little thing was unwanted and unwelcome, and it tugged at her heartstrings. This was absolutely criminal!

It wasn't that Mu made a conscious choice on the matter, it was that there really was no choice. The child was hardly bigger than a sack of potatoes, and, terrifyingly, hardly as heavy as her Clothbox, which weighed... nothing to her, actually; she should not have been able to pick him up so easily as she did. She was almost afraid to touch him, terrified that he would shatter.

And then she found a scarier thought- not that he might shatter, but that he might break in her arms, and that would make it her fault, and she didn't think she could handle that.

Once he was gathered in her arms, she looked around, as though someone might see. Nobody was around, nobody searching for the child, nothing...

It wasn't right. He wouldn't be missed.

A golden star shot across the sky.

-x-x-x-

Mu sighed quietly as she bathed the body, the figure sleeping silently, restfully. She had brought him home nearly three weeks ago, used her Cosmos to feed him broken down atoms (grant, it had looked like a bowl of brown slush), and once he'd swallowed it, she had moved and worked the atoms into his system, flooding his body with much needed vitamins, nutrients, and minerals. She had continued to do it every meal, along with spending hours burning Cosmos she didn't think she had to mend his hurts. If he had died, it wouldn't have been for lack of trying.

But three weeks had passed, and now Mu was truly getting worried. He had responded a bit in his sleep, and it was a few days ago that he had started to keep food down with out her breaking it up for his body even further. It meant he was getting better, healing.

But what worried her was how she even fathomed she could raise a boy. She'd grant she was a teenager, but she didn't have experience in this thing. What was she supposed to do?

-x-x-x-

The first time the boy opened his eyes, Mu was painting dots on his forehead with her fingers. Well, not yet; at the moment she was still mixing paint, trying to find the color that would suit him best and read a scroll on adopting at the same time. Lumarians were born with dots, after all- they didn't have to be applied.

Still, she stopped when she noticed him watching her, her smile soft. Beautiful, emerald-green eyes watched her back. Maybe that color... She wiped her hands on a paint-stained cloth and started mixing anew. "Good afternoon." He continued to watch her, so Mu continued to talk. She had sung to him while he slept, but it really wasn't the same. "I'm glad to see you awake at last."

After hours of conversation, abeit one-sided, emerald dots went on his forehead.

-x-x-x-

It was a week before her young charge finally spoke. His voice was quiet and cautious, as if he expected punishment. "Why are there no stairs?"

That was a good question.

-x-x-x-

Mu didn't learn the boy's name until the third month, over dinner made of rice and chicken, some dried nuts and fresh fruits from the garden her mentor had once tended. It was her job now.

She had also managed to get fresh milk. She had bought a handful of goats in the market the week before and had managed to get the in the small plot of grass a short ways down the mountain. Her son seemed to enjoy it.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"Why would I want to do otherwise?"

"Because I'm a freak."

Mu saw red, but struggled to remain as calm as possible. She knew he reacted badly to anger and violence- had learned when she had got frustrated with her canvas. Aries had a lot of time up here, and she spent it doing various arty things. "Lamb," The term was an endearment- Mu was an Aries- an ewe. "What is your name?"

He looked surprised and ducked his head a bit. "...Harry Potter."

"Harry... you are my son-" He opened his mouth to comment, most likely to protest, but Mu shook her head. "No, you are. I take responsibility for you, tend to your needs, and swore to care for you wholly. I do not go back on my word. In all estates, you are my son. Adopted, perhaps, but my son never the less. And I love you, so believe me when I say you are not a freak. You are unique and special, and I want to hear you say it."

It wasn't until after dinner Harry said it, but Mu didn't hardly hear it.

"I am not a freak. I am unique and special... and Mama loves me."

Mu gave a teary smile to herself as she washed up the dishes.

-x-x-x-

Five year olds were notoriously curious, Mu noted, watching Harry's inquisitive expression in amusement. He was paying rapt attention to her and the pottery wheel she was working on. She didn't mind- Shion too had encouraged development, and part of the standard Greek schooling were arts, music, and sports. It was therefor good for Harry. She smiled at him. "Do you want to try, Harry?"

Harry made a bowl by the time Mu had to start dinner.

-x-x-x-

"Harry, stop squirming. Meditation requires stillness."

"Sorry, Mama."

-x-x-x-

"So what is Athena like?"

Harry's question did not come as a surprise, but Mu truly hadn't expected it to come during bathtime, either. And although she had previously wondered, thought and plotted what she would say to him, it abruptly fell short. Instead, she told him honestly, "Like love."

-x-x-x-

Mu and Harry were on their bi-monthly trip to the town at the base of the mountains, mostly for no other reason than Harry wanted to see the Hindi people. Mind, Mu also used the trips to sell her artistic work- abeit it was a trade for foods that didn't normally grow up here, although she did have her son hooked on Dragonfruit already. Thank Athena they were close to China.

However, this trip was going to be interrupted. Someone had spotted the pair with pink dots on their foreheads and weaved through the market for them. Somehow, Harry noticed him first and clung to her sleeve, effectively stopping her.

She looked.

He was huge- his shoulders broader than she remembered Master's being; his hair was a bright orange-colored red, like a hot pan from the kiln, and his eyes were embers. The pair of dots he too bore meant he was also a Lumarian, and Mu knew then instinctively what would happen. Nothing could, would stop it. He stayed with them for two whole months and then continued traveling, leaving her womb filled with his seed and her emotions frayed.

Still, their Race mattered more than a few hurt feelings.

His name had been Shishi.

-x-x-x-

Harry, Mu was pleased to note, had taken the two-moth interlude in relative stride, although he had glowerd and growled and just over-all seemed to make Shishi unwelcome. Now that the orange-haired Lumarian was gone, he seemed to be returning to normal, although still a little tense. Mu could hardly blame him and apologized over and over to him, confidant that he would understand one day.

Of course, he also now insisted he monopolize Mu's time, perhaps afraid another stranger might encroach.

Even so, she just worked at night.

-x-x-x-

Christmas was a holiday Mu understood and used to her advantage every year to pester Shaka, who lived not so far away in a private Hindi temple. Her friend was the only one who knew her secret, and kept so tight-lipped of it the Pope himself could demand the truth and the Virgo would commit the grave sin of lying.

It was the relationship they had. They had grown up with one another- out here, before Sanctuary. When Shion had found her, he had taken her back to Sanctuary- Shaka's trainer had found him and trained in the mountains. It wasn't until years later, when they were gathered at Sanctuary shortly before Aioros had been declared a traitor, that she saw him again. And after that night, Mu had come out here to Jamir, having only returned to Sanctuary once- to fight the Titans that had encroached.

That's why she had been taking a walkabout, she supposed. After the Titans, Mu had wanted to explore. It had served that purpose and others.

She'd found Harry.

And it was Harry who, after Mu had finished buttoning up his clothes, told the purple-haired youth in a rather round about way, that he'd never had a Christmas gift.

Mu had only been intending to take Harry to the market, but this admittion forced Mu to change plans. She was initially going to forgo her trip to Shaka's- she was heavily pregnant and the child was due in four months- but the change happend never the less.

"Come, my little one. Off we go."

-x-x-x-

Christmas was also the one holiday that Shaka claimed he didn't like but still let his trainees do what they wanted.

Mu knew there were a total of five, but she only saw two, and they were busy making the ends of the pine needles glow. She wondered where they got the tree.

Harry was positively fascinated.

Mu wondered if perhaps Shaka would teach him how to do it. Then she wondered if Shaka would... if perhaps the blond wouldn't teach her son control in general.. Harry had a ridiculous amount of Cosmos, much like the raw well of a Gold Saint, but Mu couldn't bring herself to be upset she was training him for a Silver Cloth. He would be all but a Gold Saint, which was good, because the Chalice deserved such power. Mu couldn't think of someone better.

But Harry's problem was not in the amount of Cosmos, but rather his ability to grasp and hold onto something that went three different directions at once.

But Shaka was the reincarnation of Buddha, who was the reincarnation of Vishnu, and if the blond wasn't good with handling immense amounts of volatile Cosmos, Mu supposed they'd all be dead.

Ironically, it was Harry's Cosms that made the two present turn to stare, the other three come out of the woodwork, and Shaka show his face, less she be hunting him down. And any other time, Mu would have laughed at the surprised expression on her old friend's face, but the other teenager probably wouldn't have appreciated this joke at his expense.

"Good morning, Shaka." By the way Shaka started, Mu had the notorious feeling he hadn't sensed her for her son.

-x-x-x-

The Western New Years was a simple affair. Mu showed her son the mountain of the Two Peaks, the one where the miracle water flowed, though Mu did not tell him such things. She started his studies of various types of terrain, flora and fauna around the world, told him of the various protectors of the Earth- from Athena, to Odin, to the great Gaia Herself, and what the speculation as to their homes might be, and what she remembered of the traditions in Sanctuary.

When she revealed the Mask law, Harry had been so confused. "They don't know."

-x-x-x-

The birth of her second child came in the month of Aries. All Saints adhered to the calender of the Sun, which passed through thirteen constellations without fail. The only month, ironically, that did not have a Gold Cloth to it's name was Serpentarius, which had been horribly broken beyond repair many Wars ago. What few peices they'd had did make up part of the new Snake-Bearer Cloth, but much Silver had been used to make it a feasible Cloth once more, and so it was.

Many of the Temples had been destroyed that year, and Serpentarius had been one of them. As it was no longer a Gold Cloth, it's Temple hadn't been replaced.

Mu wondered what it might have meant had her young one been born in said month, then decided she was better off not knowing, and had instead joyously showed her screaming baby to her son. The infant had a swatch of orange hair, but his mother's grey-green eyes.

"Name him, Harry."

Harry looked more than a little confidant as he spoke, a self-assurance he had repaired his first armor back in February, during the Eastern New Year. "Kiki."

Mu smiled. Yes, her little Sunshine.

-x-x-x-

Somehow, between her infant and Harry's training under Shaka, Mu had found enough time to finish the Mahjong set she had been working on for what felt like ages. It was a gift for Harry's birthday, which Mu only knew because her son had rather fluent conversation in his sleep in approximately five different tongues.

Mu had learned early on that Harry knew neither how to read nor write, and Mu had quickly rectified that by teaching him half a dozen languages at once. It was how Mu had been taught, and therefor, how she taught.

Harry had caught on ridiculously fast, and that was why there were so many tiles, letters and numbers. Sets for every language. There were easily thousands of tiles.

When Harry came home from his training with Shaka that day, he found a wrapped package where his plate should have been.

-x-x-x-

Kiki's first birthday came with chocolate cake, a treat that Harry had worked ridiculously hard to obtain and make. It was his gift to his little brother, Mu knew, and that made her proud.

She'd make him something special on his own birthday.

-x-x-x-

Mu still thought perhaps that it was a bit early, but she had confidence in her son, so when ten year old Harry asked to try for his Cloth, Mu saw no reason to deny him.

"Tomorrow, Harry." Mu promised, and after he went to bed that night, and four year old Kiki was out like a light, Mu took the Chalice and planted it for the Trial.

And when morning came, Mu took her eldest child to the lip of Death Valley, deep in the Alps. "Somewhere in this Valley the Cloth you have trained for all this time is hidden; you must find it, Harry, but that is only the first task set to you. There is a fresh-water spring, and you must gather water from it to fill the Chalice to the brim. You must find your own food, your own water, and your own way. I cannot help you- you must do this on your own. Return here when you are done, successful or otherwise."

"I'll come back with my Cloth," Harry promised. "I wont let you down."

Mu's smile was wane. "I know, Harry. Trust me, I know."

-x-x-x-

Mu did not know how long it took to attain a Silver Cloth, but after a week waiting impatiently at the edge of Death Valley was making her fearful. Harry had not come out, and Mu was beginning to sincerely worry. Should she have held him back? Waited longer?

Kiki was presently being watched by one of Shaka's students, the one training for the Peacock, a Silver Cloth that belonged to the same collection of Birds that contained the Dove, Crane, Phoenix, Eagle, Love Bird, Swan, and others. Mu did not worry for her youngest. No, she was worried instead for her first child, the one who should have climbed up by now.

Mu remembered when she had attained her own Cloth; Shion had shattered Aries, and Mu's Trial was Repair. Mu, who'd had a natural talent for making and repairing things, had accepted without hesitation. Nothing she had done had worked- she worked and worked with no sleep and little food until at last her hands were raw and bleeding, blood from her fingers soaking into the cracks as she spread Star Dust over the abused and broken metal, and her repair held firm. It had been a hard lesson- Shion had told her he had found her laying over a repaired golden ram, unconscious from pain, bloodloss, sleep deprivation and dehydration, and she well would have died had Aries not called out to him- but it was one Mu had to admit, she would have learned no other way.

But she had not thought the Survivor Trial too much for Harry. She prayed she had not been wrong and waited. When he finally climbed out, he held the Chalice in both hands, filled to the brim with not a drop spilt, and looking more than a little like an Aquarius cup-bearer in the dimming twilight.

Mu was certain she had never cried so many tears of joy, both that he was safe and that he had succeeded in his Trial. Nothing, Mu was certain, could have made either of them happier.

The Celebration would be spectacular.

-x-x-x-

Harry wasn't fully recovered from his trip into Death Valley for two weeks, and he slept through the most of it. When he woke, Mu was the first thing he saw. It was a relief to see her, his mother, the woman who loved him and took care of him. Even though he was aware he was adopted, that his real mother had died in a car crash, he had accepted her in this place.

Of course, actually finding his mother wasn't that hard- her purple hair was practically covering his face. Mother's hairtie must have come loose. "...Mama?" Even after all these years, he still called her that. It was easier to do when he was sleepy, and she beamed at the seams with pride whenever the affectionate was used.

He used it now, childish though it seemed, and was rewarded with a gentle but wearied reply.

"Yes, lamb?"

That, of course, was her affectionate for both her children, though Harry was sometimes called Emerald and Kiki was forever Sunshine, and it made him smile. "...the Chalice.. it showed me things. I wanted-"

Mu quieted him easily, like she always had before. "Whatever it showed you, my child, is not for eyes nor ears but yours."

Bewildered, Harry looked up at her; Mu had shifted, so now there was a curtain of lavender around their faces, and Harry could see the sad eyes of his Matron. "..are they true, though, Mama?"

"Only the Three Sisters know, I'm afraid. Very few in this world are privy to the certainty of the future."

"Oh.."

Silence reigned for a few moments as Mu shifted, popping her spine. She was alot easier to mistake for a boy with long hair then she had been when Kiki was little. Her boyish figure had returned after she had stopped nursing him.

Truly, Harry was more comfortable with this appearance.

"Do you want me to tell your brother you're awake, or are you inclined to sleep more?"

Harry got up.

-x-x-x-

The Celebration of his success was held the day after he had managed to stay awake a full twelve hours.

It was a bit like his last birthday, made different by the fact that Mother produced an old, dusty bottle of Lumarian Scarlettemper- a spicy, blood-colored Lumarian wine that got more alcoholic and tasted delicious- as well as several kegs of Sweetwater, which was shared by all as they spent the day at the Buddhist Temple with Shaka and his students.

Harry had brought his Cloth on Mu's insistance - "You should always look your best when around other Saints, my dear. " - but he had taken it off so he could wrestle with the trainees, who took the temporary freedom with delight. Harry had already pledged his skills to Athena and the protection of the world, aware, as he was always, within the presence of two Athenian Loyalists who'd had their Clothes for a long time, although he did not know how long nor their rank.

When it came time for lunch, the seven of them- Harry, Kiki, and Shaka's five trainees- marched off to wash up, leaving the adults to set the banquet out.

While Mother and Master Shaka stayed by the low stone table, everyone else had retreated to the crown of a large shade tree. It had fruit this time of year, which was amazing when one considered both the time and the altitude into consideration.

Harry liked it mostly because it had more than enough room for the seven of them and then some. And may be because of the snake he'd once found up here when Mother let him and Kiki sleep over.

"So Harry, what did it feel like? Wearing your Cloth, the first time?" Shiva asked, his hair so green it blended almost too well with the tree.

Harry found six pairs of curious eyes on him, and realized rather belatedly that his friends had boxed him, all extremely eager to ask questions, but all controlled enough not to ask at once. While Shiva was not the defacto leader of the group, Harry understood how much thought Shiva was putting into his own request to fetch his Cloth. It made sense.

"Like love," Harry answered slowly, not quite sure how to describe how it had felt. It was hard to put into words. "..like warmth and adrenaline, and a rush of pure... power, like I had the ability to right all the wrongs in the world."

"It wasn't heavy, was it?" This time, the question came from the redhead two years older than himself; Agora hardly looked like someone who had spent half his life on a diet of nuts and fruits, easily twice the size of Shiva, and nearly three times Harry himself. He certainly didn't strike Harry as the sort of person Harry would have expected to be trying for the Lotus, a Cloth Harry was pretty sure resided somewhere in the silted bottom of the Nile river.

Harry tossed him the still-unnamed fruit, which Agora caught with ridiculous ease. "No heavier than this, promise. Mama said that when a Cloth recognises you are the one to wear it, and it feels the fire in your spirit, it's like wearing a layer of clothes instead of armor."

Tarun, a brown-haired boy once from India, questioned him about what his Trial had been like, and Harry had tried to avoid giving a true answer of the week he spent inhaling the scent and taste of sulfur, until Ravi stated he'd quite like to know, too, and in joined Kiki to gang up on him, and so Harry sat to tell the not-so-interesting story of his Trial as interestingly as possible.

It took a while.

-x-x-x-

It took a while to get both Mu and Shaka to agree to let Harry spend the night at the temple, but eventually they ahd relented, and now Harry lay out on the soft grass that lay about the temple, the others with him to make a six-point star. Kiki had to go home, but that was okay because he'd fallen asleep long before the party was over.

"Hay Harry?"

"Yeah, Aiacos?"

"Is that your constellation there?"

Harry looked. "Nah, but it does kind of look cool, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"There's the Big Dipper!" Ravi declared, and they all looked, because Ravi was the eldest, having a month on Agora, but he knew the constellations better than the back of his hand. It was indeed the Big Dipper, and they listened intently as Ravi explained how to follow it across to the Northern Star, and from there he pointed out to them the Great Cross and the Cygnus. He told them about Cetus, the Whale, and Cassopiea and her husband Ceuphus, and their daughter the princess Andromeda.

Eventually, Ravi's voice lulled them to slumber.

-x-x-x-

Shiva went on his Trial the following month. His Cloth was hidden deep within the Indian jungle, in an ancient palace. Harry had no idea why Aiacos decided to tell them the story of the Jungle book, about a little boy who'd been raised by a jaguar and uncled by a bear with a wolf pack for brothers and sisters who fell under the rule of the Monkey King and became the mightiest hunter when he bested a man-eating tiger and a King himself when he fought and killed an Anaconda...

What came to Harry's mind during the story was the Blood Orchid, and he was fairly certain aforementioned flower was in South America somewhere up the Amazon, so he didn't worry about a giant snake killing his friend. Besides, Shiva would have been a stringy bird anyway.

-x-x-x-

Apora went on his Trial during the middle of March.

Harry couldn't have been happier when they learned it really was at the bottom of the Nile. He threw himself a private party while they waited for Apora's full recovery to have his Celebration.

-x-x-x-

Kiki's birthday came with his own game of Styx, a game like Pick Up Sticks only it contained about thirty-five hundred pieces, twenty colors, and bits of ribbon.

It left when Kiki went to bed under the Aurora Borealis at about five in the morning.

Harry blamed his brother's mixture of cake, Sweetwater, and an empty jar of Mother's favorite cooking spice that Harry himself could swear was pure suger.

-x-x-x-

July, however, just plain started weird. Harry was sure about this because after he had come in from milking the goats and had set the table, he went to wash up for breakfast and found a bird sitting on the balcony wall outside his room.

Harry had, of course, studied birds of the world, and he knew it to be an owl, just as he knew that no bird came to Jamir, save the vultures, because of the Cloth Graveyard. Needless to say, he was quite surprised.

He washed up, left the creature alone, and went for breakfast.

"Mama, there is an owl on my balcony."

-x-x-x-

They made a special trip to Shaka's that day, letter in hand, to get the other Saint's thoughts. Because it concerned Harry, the adopted Lumarian was allowed to stay and converse; Kiki was sent out to play, and he did so, tackling Aiacos.

"I don't understand, Shaka. Magic? I didn't think Magus existed anymore, not in the collection someone would need a school..."

Shaka shook his head; Harry felt a bit out of place. "They do. They ward their very lives much in a mockery of Sanctuary, and now turn away others who are not like themselves, shunning creatures we knew as every day, and even members of their own families if they are different or do not conform."

Harry decided he didn't like the sound of these Magus at all. Nobody should do something like scorn their family for being different. It wasn't fair!

"And yet, if we decline to send him, they will send someone after him."

"What?" Mu sounded scandalized; Harry did not like what the sentance insinuated. "They can't! He is our son!"

Harry's world froze. Their son...

-x-x-x-

Harry eyed himself in the looking-glass, a bit warily at the 'western clothes' he now wore- a mix of loose pants made with an unfamiliar material and a shirt that was the same, declaring 'Hot Topic' in boxy Roman letters Harry rarely used. Greek was the common tongue among Saints, save when Harry was only talking to Mu and Kiki, and then it was in Lumarian, barring the random sentance out of the blue when Mother would use something else.

Harry didn't really know how to think of himself, though. He looked a bit awkward in these strange clothes, they clashed with the golden band on his arm that beheld a green emerald the size of a walnut, were too dark for his markings- the Lumarian dots he was not born with, but had been imprinted permanently onto his skin when he had accepted Mu as his mother, and the Buddhist dot- a red mark in the dead center between two marks of green- his newfound father had given him still made him want to reach up and pick it off.

The day he'd received his letter, his mother had come out of the closet. Truly, they had spent the following day helping Mu decide what colors to anoint her new sons with. It had been fun to watch Apora squirm when someone suggested pink for him.

Harry frowned and peeled of his shirt- okay, he could live with the pants, but he needed a lighter colored shirt to live with. Harry lived with an artist, and was an artist by nature, so he was rather wonky about colors.

Harry shuffled through things he hadn't owned a week ago, and finally came up for air with a white, shortsleeved shirt that was thoroughly plain and declared himself victorious.

"Ready, Mama!"

-x-x-x-

Shaka, Harry had learned, had an insane amount of information that awed him, but this one, he decided, took the cake. Their teleportation, a skill he and his brothers hadn't mastered quiet yet, had landed them in London, across the street from a place who's Roman letters looked as though they had seen better days. It took him a moment to unscramble them- he hadn't used much of this language for a long while, and he had a notorious feeling he'd need it quite a bit in this place.

A blond family made of three entered. Shaka made for the building, and together the nine of them entered. Harry wondered if he was supposed to feel a shock when he stepped inside, like Cosmos but indefinitely different, rolling over him, a warm but biting energy; he felt his hair stand on end, and reached out to grab the end of Mu's hair, praying he hadn't been the only one to feel it.

Kiki grabbed his own. Shiva shot him a curious look, but Harry only grinned at him. Yes, he knew they looked a bit like a line of elephants.

Shaka stopped at the bar. "We need to get to the shops behind your establishment."

Harry blinked. He had never heard Shaka speak in anything but Greek; the words he spoke now were smooth and sweet, very regal and refined, almost aristocratic in nature. It seemed to have surprised the bartender too, Harry was pleased to note.

"I will take them, Tom," A voice interjected just as the barman opened his mouth, and Harry turned, glancing up at the tall blond man he had seen entering the building before them. Harry was taken back by just how much he looked like Shaka.

There were differences, of course- no Bundi dot, shorter hair, and eyes a silver-grey, far from the 'pure crystal blue' that Mother claimed the other Saint had. His hair was a different shade of blond, too. But he still looked like the Buddhist in the face.

"Welcome," The stranger greeted, even as the bartender- Tom- went back to work. "If you would come with me, please."

Dutifully, they all followed Shaka, who followed the stranger with no sign of worry. Then again, Shaka rarely looked worried, so that wasn't the best thing to go by, now was it?

It was when the door found itself closed from the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron- honestly, who would call their place a leaking cooking-pot?- that the blond stranger turned to Shaka and smiled. Unnerved, Harry listened.

"So does this mean that you owe me a course in your world?"

"Perhaps."

The stranger gave a wry smile. "I suppose a bit of introductions are in order. I am Lucius Malfoy."

Mu's smile reassured Harry somewhat. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. I am Mu, and you already appear to know Shaka. These are our children; Ravi, Agora, Aiacos, Shura, Harry, Tarun, and Kiki."

Lucius smiled faintly. "I must admit, when I received the letter, I did not really expect him to bring the whole family. Its a pleasant surprise." Lucius turned for a moment, produced a long, thing stick from somewhere on his person, and tapped a brick on the wall as he spoke. "I did speak with the goblins on your behalf, Shaka, just incase; they said it was thoroughly possible to recover the boy's key. Dumbledore has it- I wasn't able to get it from him. My apologies." Shaka waved for him to continue- Harry and everyone else simply stared at the wall, which had begun to move and part, a bit like the Red Sea.

It stopped in a grand archway of red brick, and beyond it was a bustle of people and interesting, foreign buildings.

"Quite the spectacal, isn't it? Diagon Alley is the largest collection of Wizarding Shops in England. Not necessarily the best, but the only location you can get all you require in one stop. I sent my wife and son ahead of us. They'll be joining us at Madam Malkin's a little later. Draco was indefinately pleased when I told him he might have a new playmate. I think he might cry for pleasure when he learns there are seven of you."

Harry decided kind of liked this man. Some Magus might be fun after all. 


	2. May Angels Lead You In

Magus.

The word, the name, by itself meant absolutely nothing. It connoted nothing, had no strings, and could not be attributed to anything in the universe.

Nevertheless, Magus as a whole were unliked by the Saints Harry had grown up with his whole life. He hadn't asked why; Mother had kept him home one day when he should have been training, shortly after the owl had made it to his balcony. After Harry, laughingly, spent the day teasing his new brothers. Agora had not been pleased by the pink crack and somehow, Harry and the other five elder boys had been drawn up into a brawl.

Kiki had kept score.

Harry was positive he would be keeping score too, his mind trailing through the list of commands his mother had given him. Most of them were simple, basic things - don't drink or eat anything a Magus prepares or gives you - but the others were not so simple. Mother had been required to explain the difference between a simple Ritual and a Magus Ritual. And after shopping at Diagon Alley, the Silver Saint had yet another thing to add to his mass of studies.

Okay, a lot of things.

Really, that's part of what Harry was doing now; the scarlet train had not yet left the platform, but Harry had already begun to continue his studies. He had already read his year's books several times, even though he knew he would only be reading them again later on, and was instead reading through a book of supposed myths.

He wanted to play music, but without his brothers present, he know that would only serve to make him feel more lonely.

Even Nagini, the snake who had lived in Shaka's fruit tree, and Hedwig, the newfound family owl that had been bought for him to keep in touch, did not make him feel particularly sociable at the moment.

Harry glanced up from a page talking of a great Death Hound called a Grim to peer at the bird, who had perched on the windowsill and was watching the platform outside in curiosity. She was a sociable bird, and she and Nagini seemed to get along. She was also notoriously well-behaved for an owl.

It had to be an animal thing, he mused, and dropped his attention back down. Learning how to use a quill was difficult, but he was practicing by taking notes. Still, he felt he would likely be handing in papers marked in a calligraphy brush for some time. An inkstone, at least, stayed where you put it. He had to make sure his inkbottle was capped whenever he wasn't using it because the obscure thing spun in saucer-sized circles and bubbled at inopportune moments.

It bubbled again, dancing along the designs of his Clothbox, when he heard the door slide open; he looked up and was surprised to find two redheads toting a familiar black and silver trunk, and being followed by an equally-familiar blond.

"Now, little dragon, is this-" One redhead began, and Harry realized a bit belatedly that the twins were absolutely identical, in all but one thing. One was favoring his right arm a little.

"-your friend?" The other finished and practically preened when the blond nodded, hoisting the truck up to place it in the luggage rack.

Harry had left his Clothbox and trunk on the floor beneath the window, mostly because he was using them for tables then anything else. His ink bottle continued to dance; he picked it up and shook it absently, watching the newcomers. "Hello, Draco- who are your companions?"

"Harry, this is Fred and George. They're absolutely brilliant!"

"No, I'm Fred and he's George!" Favoring Right chirped, and Harry found himself amused by both as they proceeded to bicker over who was who. He wondered if they ever had identity issues.

"I am Harry," He offered, when at last the debate had settled over just which name belonged to who. Favoring Right ended up George.

"A wonderful-"

"Indescribable-"

"Pleasure to meet you, Harry!" The twins finished together, and Draco gave an offhand shrug when Harry looked to him. The blond couldn't be bothered to find sane people to carry his luggage?

Three minutes of conversation encompassed the four of them until the train's whistle blew and pulled from station, at which point the two excused themselves to go 'filch some knickers', effectively leaving Harry alone with a curious blond who wondered aloud why he was reading about Grims.

"Draco, what are 'knickers'?"

-x-x-x-

Harry could never sleep without dreaming. His mind insisted he must be aware and thus, he was. He always knew, instinctively, what was going on around him when something changed or something no longer seemed safe. And, to be thoroughly honest, he was surprised that he had fallen asleep in the large metal monstrosity at all. But some things still occurred as expected: he woke when something changed.

Draco had changed. He was busy fastening the heavy Hogwarts robes closed, and the young Saint nearly gagged at how pale they made him appear. Black was not a good color on him.

Harry rather thought it looked quite fetching on himself as he followed the boy's lead, amazed to learn that he had slept through the arrival of the snack trolley- more because a stranger had infiltrated his compartment then any other reason.

He felt he very much preferred his pale white cloak to the school's chosen attire, however. He had never been particular to dark colors, especially once he had started to research the other Gods. Athena's rival for Earth was Hades, the 'wicked' God of the Underworld. His warriors, the one hundred and eight Specters, wore dark armors known as Surplices.

Harry had studied Hades at six, and Mother had to explain to him that 'dark' was not synonymous with 'bad', or, harder, 'evil'.

Still, despite being an artist, he did not appreciate the beauty these colors possessed.

Besides, they didn't look quite swell with his Cloth on beneath. They produced a rather ominous shadow. Harry fingered his headband and decided to keep it on- it kept his bangs out of the way. They weren't enough to tie back with the rest of his hair.

The train pulled to a stop. Harry smiled privately to himself; it was time to face the world of the Magus.

-x-x-x-

Harry was as pale as a Banshee as Draco guided him up the stairs and into the Castle, the rocking of the boat had made him ill, moreso by the fact he had already been scared. Draco had complained about him crushing bones, but he had used the same hand to grab him by the sleeve and drag him up the stairs, so Harry was not inclined to believe him.

He suspected most of the blond's rant was an attempt to make him smile, and it was a success. It was getting his mind off the horrid deep water.

Harry had seen deep water only once, and that was in the Alps where he had struggled to attain his Cloth. That water had smelled and tasted like sulfur, and Harry had no great love for it, either. There was no such thing as pure water in Death Valley. But at least in Death Valley, Harry had not seen a Kracken.

Bloody lake his foot! Poseidon's child would not be in it naturally unless it were connected to one of the seven seas. At least Draco had been equally surprised to see it.

-x-x-x-

Now Harry was sure he'd seen everything. The mass of eleven-year olds had been left alone for all of fifteen minutes- which was a really long wait for Harry, still somewhat freaked out by his first Magus boatride and therefor about twice as jumpy as normal- which was long enough for him to realize Draco whimpered like his Mother during labor at the appearance of another fun Magus secret: Ghosts.

Transparent with only the vaguest hints of color, the ghosts could not be considered particularly atheistically pleasing, but they were rather sociable. One stopped for a moment to apologize to the frightened mob before continuing onward, and Harry himself was about ready to scream from stress.

Scylla -and- ghosts around preteens? He had heard Magus were Mad, but this took the cake!

He took that back several moments later when they were ushered inside an even larger room with no apparent ceiling- the Great Hall, he recalled reading- and an old tattered rag began to sing to them.

This most assuredly took the cake. And some Scarlettemper to boot!

Draco had calmed down by the stern catty woman called him - "Malfoy, Draco!" - and the rag's- hats?- sudden placement - "SLYTHERINE!", though it hadn't even touched his head- but Harry was still so wound and on alert that he right about jumped out of his skin when he heard his name, his old name, called shortly afterward.

"Potter, Harry!"

He shouldn't have been so surprised. It was the name his letter had come with, after all. He couldn't help it though. Even Mister and Missus Malfoy had deigned to call him proper, and Draco had conveniently forgotten his surname- it wasn't his name anymore, blast it!- about three minutes after they met.

Even the Goblins at the Bank had seemed happy to call him as he pleased.

A part of him had always known Hogwarts wouldn't though, not with him being some sort of celebrity to the Magus world.

Very slowly, like a wounded animal, Harry stepped out of the remaining crowd of children and his sharp senses caught the whispers they weren't meant to catch. From both the children and the faculty.

Nevertheless, he was determined not to show his fears to them, and stalked forward with the grace of a panthera, the great primal hunting cats. The candles that lit the Hall made the Chalice's headpiece glisten wetly and the ends of his robes and ties billowed and wafted like dark shadows and wisps of smoke. He was absolutely certain he was not supposed to catch the flash of concern in that white-haired old man's eyes as he sat down, and he made a mental note to keep an eye out when around him, just incase. And then the world went dark, the hat built for a full-grown wizard and not a fledgling.

Self control alone kept him from ripping it off when he felt it poking and prodding at his mental shields, but it didn't stop him from shuddering.

"Really now," The hat whispered to him, voice almost reassuring. "I wont know where to place you if you wont let me in."

This was going to take a while, Harry decided then and there.

-x-x-x-

Harry Potter's Sorting had everyone's undivided attention, but no one saw what Minevira saw.

A very obvious shudder.

The feline Animagus frowned in worry, a frown that steadily deepened as her godson spent longer and longer beneath the Sorting Hat. She let out a breath she hadn't been holding when the hat finally opened it's brim a whole twenty minutes later.

"SLYTHERINE!"

The tabby glanced up at the staff table and locked eyes with the Slytherine Head of House and Severus looked back at her with an expression of equal confusion.

She was beginning to believe what Dumbledore had said. This was going to be an interesting year indeed.

Turning, she ran her finger down the list again and called the next name as Harry practically glided to the green and silver table, slipping in next to Draco Malfoy.

Dinner went by easily enough for the most part, once the Headmaster got done informing them what they were not supposed to do and where they were not allowed to be. Harry had already known he was going to explore and commemorate the layout of the school to memory, but now he'd decided to pay special attention to both the forest- honestly, who drops a school in the middle of the woods to tempt then says 'do not go in'?- and the third floor corridor, which Harry was going to start on first thing in the morning.

Harry was not going to let these secrets be kept from him.

The only real trouble that occurred at dinner was one of the upperclassmen stealing his headpeice and finding that it weighted about a hundred pounds in his hands.

Harry gingerly picked it up from the crater in the table, settling it back upon it's rightful place on his head, before shooting the elder a bemused expression. "You should not touch what does not belong to you. Especially if it is mine."

-x-x-x-

Privately, Harry thought the Magus that was his 'Head of House'- whatever that was- could use a few pointers in good self-care and accessorizing, because slicked hair would look exceptionally better then simply greasy hair, and he could really due with a splash of color somewhere to draw attention. But then again, it was possible he was just colored blind and didn't want to stand out terribly, which meant, of course, that the man had a reason for being so... ugh.

Oh yes, Harry was so articulate tonight.

"That's Professor Snape," Draco offered from beside him, and the Silver Saint smiled privately; he had begun to worry, with Draco's silence during mealtime, that the blond would no longer speak to him. "He teaches potions."

Well, that explained the hair.

-x-x-x-

Slytherines lived in the dungeons, which resulted in much annoyance from the boy who came from the top of a mountain, made worse by the dark and damp decor, which drew the poor boy's brain to stories of Hades' abode. His nerves had been previously frazzled by the boatride, and neither the ghosts nor the singing, if it could be called such, of the school song had settled them, so by the time Harry saw the common room, the giant moving portrait that covered the far wall...

This was the first one he had seen, for there were no paintings between the Great Hall and the Common Room, so needless to say this did not do well to his state of mind. His Cloth was his mountain, the firm steps upon which he clung. Nothing the Magus could throw at him he could not overcome, for he had Athena's Blessing and support.

The painting spoke. Harry fainted.


	3. They Called Me Kinda Strange

_Full Title: They Weren't Kidding When They Called Me Kinda Strange  
_

-X-

Severus Snape was not a man to stand idly by with the students he was responsible for dropping like bricks, no matter how much he'd detested the boy's father. Especially not as he was clearly Lily's son, from the way he'd marched himself into the Great Hall- exuding all of his mother's steely confidance in his step and the same flash of emerald eyes.

So when Harry James Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, hit the floor, he was very, very glad he carried smelling salts in his interior pocket. Not because he was James Potter's son, but because he was the son of Lily Evans, and he'd made a promise.

X-X-X-X

Relief and worry both coiled into an angry, disgusting knot in his belly as his godson helped the Potter boy sit upright; Severus hoped very few of the children present would feel this warrented writing to their parents, and he knew those hopes were not necessary.

House Unity was a bond that Salazar Slytherine himself caste even today, and had Potter been in any other house, yes, they would have written home and regailed their sire and dame of what occured. But with Salazar watching, and the spell about to be recaste? He was a Slytherine, and no one in the House would turn on their own.

Still, he was glad Lily's son had been placed here for him to watch over. _James_' son would have been a Gryffindor.

Nevertheless, he'd have to talk with the medi-witch to make sure this was only a one-time event. It _seemed_ like it was just taught nerves, but Severus was a Potion's Master, not a healer. He knew how elixers and salves were meant to work, and why bronze or brass cauldrons worked best for what potions and why _simple_ not _ornate_ was demanded for students. He knew how to brew Wolf's Bane, had created a number of new potions unique to only himself, the recipies of which he might write down before his death and gift to his apprentice.

Singular. Spreading the formulae for potions like _that_ would be more then a little dangerous. Severus wouldn't risk it. He'd bind his apprentice to the knowledge first.

But as far as healing went, Severus knew little more then the average Wizard. Medicine was Poppy's forte.

X-X-X-X

After the ceremony, where the portrait of Salazar Slytherine was revealed to be quite less a portrait and quite a bit more the medium that housed the Founder's personality, memories and magic, Severus Snape sent the students whole off to bed. Each bracelet still glowed on the wrists of students and faculty alike, but the Seal of Slytherine would fade by morning, less other teachers and Dumbedore alike catch onto the ancient practice; bracelet, then tattoo, then skin. The warmth of his own Seal overshadowed the everpresent chill of the Death Eater's skull and sickly green python, making him feel welcome once more.

Salazar was watching him from oil as he examined the back of his hand thoughtfully. He remembered when he was a first year, the first time he'd stepped into the green and silver of the Oroborous bricked into the floor and shoved his hand onto the Cobra's crown.

There were no words to the ritual, really; of course, Salazar explained what was expected of the whole House, that they were meant to protect each other, that they were meant to cover for each other, that they were whole heartedly meant to support each other. He'd explained that he was going to each give them a mark that would, invariably, act as a beacon in duress, and as an awareness of familiarity when the necessity of subtufuge arrived. It marked them as family, as a unit.

None of that had changed. Nor did Salazar tell them of the bone-deep link between them, a net to lean one one another, to hold them up in support and light- or to drag them down, should too many fall. A gift and a curse, this Seal. No one dared tell of it, but it was the reason Slytherine graduates stayed friends- and the reason why, when the weight of the Dark Mark snared one, so many others fell.

But so long as none of the little snakes were marked- and with Voldemort, if not dead, at least -missing-, they wouldn't- Snape wouldn't fall again.

X-X-X-X

Technically speaking, so far as his Pantheon and brothers-in-arms were concerned, his name was _Ljang Khu Diskopotiro_. It's what would be on his tombstone when he died serving Lady Athena.

Visitors from the Greek-dominated society, rare though they were, had a tendancy to call him Aries' Student. Few knew he carried a Cloth now, but those that did called him _Afentis Diskopotiro_ for that reason. Not surprisingly, it was the same reason they called his teacher _Afentis Krios_, and Shaka was referred to as _Afentis Parthena_. _Agiastirio_- Sanctuary-knew them by their holy garments.

The people living in the mountain town that Harry had grown up knowing called him Ljang Khu, after his eyes, the brilliant green that they were. Save for one gray-haired old lady who, for some strange reason, had declared him both Very Old-_ Zhe Drags Rnying Pa_- and Lightning- _Glog_. Though really, she'd strung them together as _Zhe Drags Rnying Pa Glog_. Which was so very far from polite in any other language that Harry hadn't had the heart to correct her.

Aiacos had called him _Hariyo_ that first Christmas they met, and the others had jumped on it. It had become his newfound nickname amongst his newfound friends, and hadn't been that much different then his birth name. He'd enjoyed it emmensely, but less so when Agora had come home from his dive in the Nile and tacked on _Pet_. Sky. It hadn't even become Green Sky. It had become Sky Green: _Pet Hariyo_. Very little was more humiliating when one had been studying English for some time.

Still, the fact of the matter was that Harry hadn't been called _Potter_ in a very, very long time. How was it at all fair that Hogwarts and it's staff be allowed to call him such a thing, when _no one_ had done such a thing since he'd looked upon his mother?

Harry wasn't going to stand for this.

X-X-X-X

It wasn't a dream so much as it was a nightmare, and Harry clung to it as he picked himself up off the floor. He'd refused to sleep in the odd bedding that was provided, and had instead tucked himself in a corner with Nagini and feel asleep there, comforted by the feeling of stone walls around him as he slept, and that Nagini would poison any who drew too close.

He could not say what time it was; due to the fact that he had come all the way from the mountaintop yesterday, he knew his perception of _time_ was less then accurate. Still, he assumed it to be relatively early, because his odd, blond roommate was not yet awake. If Draco Malfoy even woke with the sun.

Draco'd never told him what knickers were.

Shaking his head, he shifted to let Nagini uncoil from his arms and slither off his shoulders before he dared peek into the strange door that connected them to the next couple's room. It revealed what Harry could only guess to be the Western equivilant of a bathroom, and he resolved himself to spending some time to figure it all out before he left.

X-X-X-X

Ever since he was young, Harry had always been thrilled to watch the sunrise. It had begun as something wonderful Mu had shared with him;_"Did you know, the morning sun tells the future?"_ While Shishi was visiting, Mu had been relatively trapped in her room with him, and Harry had begun to watch the sunshine smile at him on his own.

Harry met it on the school grounds as it reached and stretched over the treetops, face upturned and fingers spread out to meet it. _Agiastirio's_ people had a very unique view of the Sun and of it's rays, as they were warriors of the Lady Athena, not Apollo. As a result, it was welcomed like a dear brother or an honored uncle, owning to Apollo's posistion as Athena's half-brother and the God who's chariot drug the molten orb across the sky.

It wasn't until he'd been properly kissed by the morning stroke of warmth that he realised someone else was standing with him and he turned, not in the least mortified by his display.

"Just what are you doing?"

Erk.

"Potter."

"Dgongas dag!"

X-X-X-X

Later, Severus would reflect and try to understand exactly what it was about him that had made the child run off. His hair? His clothes? Shyness? Right now though, he became aware he needed a few language spells if he was going to have any hope of understanding the random outbursts of half the student body this year.

Severus Snape was fairly certain he had never hated Dumbledore more then he did right now.


	4. That Mistake Was Gold

Transfiguration was a magick of turning one thing into another. Including, apparently, thin air. Harry managed to keep his mouth shut for all of five minutes, because changing base elements from one thing to another violated everything he'd ever been taught.

"That's impossible."

The teacher's gray-threaded head jerked to him. Face pinched into a scowl, and green eyes flashing dark. "Mister Potter, please do not interrupt."

"Twisting atoms to turn one element into another is impossible!"

"Mister Potter!"

"Diskopotiro."

"What?"

"My name is _Diskopotiro_."

In the end, Harry had earned a week's worth of detention and had been escorted from class, as well as costing Slytherine thirty points they technically didn't have. Still, it felt well worth it; he had been trained that self sacrifice only meant something if it accomplished a goal.

Though he doubted anyone except for Draco had heard him.

XXXX-XXXX

History of Magic quickly became Harry's favorite subject. Oh, the teacher, bless his still-beating heart, was boring and dull as could be. But his room was a library of knowledge on it's own, nevermind the library Hogwarts called it's own.

He'd literally tripped over a book entitled _Myrddin Emrys and Arthur_. It was in Welsh, unfortunately, but he was sure he would either find an english one or brush up on the language, one.

Of course, by mid-class, Harry was reading _The Boggart: Real or Myth?_ while he absently paid attention to the teacher. The ghost hadn't appeared to mind that the Saint paid him the same attention as a painting, nor that the rest of the class had fallen asleep on him.

What was so fascinating about Goblins?

XXXX-XXXX

If there was one thing Harry didn't understand, it was the talking paintings.

There was a point to it, he was sure; tucked somewhere between 'dead people' and 'old knowledge'. To Magus, it probably made sense. But Harry was a Saint, and the dead needed to pass on to the Underworld. Even Athena's Chosen didn't get the right to avoid that.

"Ah, Diskopotiro!"

Harry blinked. Backtracked. Stared at the complete and utter stranger, leaning against a rather odd-shaped stone. A woman rested her elbow on the gold-plated shoulder, played with dark hair, held onto an unfamiliar sword. But the man watched Harry.

It occured to him, distractedly, that it was sad that the first person to call him by his name was in a Magus-picture.

"Yes, Afentis?" He seemed like a Lord, sitting there like he was. The lady.. well, Harry couldn't imagine who or what she might be. But Harry didn't recognise the man. Which wasn't that odd- he didn't recognise most.

The woman giggled. Leaned down to whisper something in the man's ear, and was batted away. "What is your name, young man?"

"Diskopotiro."

"Nay. Your other name?"

Harry blinked again, blindsided. No portrait was that curious. "My master calls me Harry. My tombstone will say Ljang Khu."

"Lymainomai," The man nodded, and the woman cooed. "Do you know who I am?"

No. How would he? But Harry looked at him again anyway, searching for the tell-tale signs that would reveal the answer to him. The stranger had known him by site, so surely there must have been visual clues, and must be now...

"...Afentis Aigokeros?"

"Oooh Arthur, can we keep him?"

The man chuckled, and almost seemed to ignore her. Harry had to wonder though. "Yes. The locals call me 'King Arthur'," The woman snorted, causing the young Saint to jump at the reality of them both. "But Aigokeros Arthoúros is proper."

Erk.

XXXX-XXXX

There wasn't enough ambient light in the dungeon that the... hat had designated as Harry's room in order for the boy in question to do his homework.

He gathered his dancing inkwell, the box of calligraphy brushes, his list of homework and the appropriate books. And promptly sat himself out in clear view of the Womping Willow, which proved to be almost tempting enough to warrent forgoing homework in favor of trying to put such a beauty down on paper.

Draco's twin friends found him as he was sketching out the final draft of his Charms homework, cutting out errors and double-checking the information, all the while wondering why the flighty man had found it prudent to Charm Dream-Catchers.

"Oi 'Arry!"

"Want to settle something between Fred and me?"

Harry blinked and looked up. And blinked again. He would never be able to get the image of the two boys modelling dresses out of his head. Ever.

XXXX-XXXX

Harry sighed, setting his workbook down on the bed. It was frustrating; the Potions... something or other was a decent book. It was well worded, with more then a few recipies. There was not, however, a good explanation; why you had to stir things one direction, then the other, or why crushed instead of ground ingredients were called for. He knew there had to be reasons, otherwise the definition wouldn't be either precise or necessary.

Potions, he decided, was going to be murder.

XXXX-XXXX

"What's this?"

Hermione paused in her step, turning- Neville, another Gryffindor, had stopped by the announcement board in the Great Hall. She had read the fliers yesterday; a note for Quidditch tryouts, various clubs, holiday list...

Neville was holding a pale brown paper, one she hadn't seen before, and when he left, she inched over to read it too.

AFTER CLASS STUDY GROUP  
IN VIEW OF WOMPING WILLOW  
DAILY  
ALL HOUSES WELCOME  
TEACHERS WELCOME

It wasn't signed, but she hadn't really expected that, either. It didn't read like sanctioned club or activity group.

Yet...

XXXX-XXXX

Nagini missed her fruit tree. Harry didn't have to be told this, it just made sense. If he was homesick already, it stood to reason that the snake would be too. So to be fair, the young Saint had told her to explore and have fun while he was out.

Harry didn't regret it. Wouldn't. Refused. It was easier to suffer through her recounting her day then it was to deal with his dancing inkpot as he practiced his Roman letters.

"There is an egg in the caverns below." She told him after she caught her train of thought, having revealed that there was miles and miles of pipe. In the walls, the ceilings, the floors. Some ran water- a good deal more ran air, and spiders and mice, and those varied in sized and ran well beneath the dungeons.

Harry blinked at her. "An egg?"

"Yes," Nagini hissed at him, a soothing, easy voice. "It is dusty, but there are no spiders. The water is not stale, yet..."

"Yet?" Harry prodded, refilling the quill. Nagini raised her head to taste the air, ever fascinated by the odd writing utensil. More then he was, at any rate.

"I wonder if I could find vulture eggs?"

"...when was the last time you ate?"

"The train?" Nagini wondered aloud, sounding less sure about that then she had about weither or not the sky was even a color.

Harry had to laugh, reaching down to take the ink-bottle from her. Explaining what a train was had been fun; the nearest they had gotten was land-river. "Go on then. We can finish this story later."

"Yes, little one," She needled, and then fled from the sheets like a bolt of lightning. "Yes. Here, mousie, mousie. Come to me, come..."

Idly, he wondered if he could turn in a future extra credit report about the personalities of snakes. Then he remembered Nagini had found a nest where _Hogwarts: A History_ claimed nothing was.

Time for a trip to the library.

XXXX-XXXX

"Flying lessons." Harry spoke flatly, eyeing the salt-and-pepper coach like she'd gone mad. Leave the gracious, ever-loving flesh of Gaia- for Ouranos? Why? He didn't have wings, and he was fairly sure going in the air without them was a well-defined, very short recipie for visiting Hades far, far too early.

Why did Magus do such things? Did they enjoy bumping into the trails of Hades' wake, of death well before the Fates wished to cut their threads? Was there a route to their madness, a disease which could be cured, a disconnect of nerves to be reconnected? Had they been dropped as babies, knocked heads one too many times against stones?

"No, Ma'am, I am not. I think I'll be sitting this one out."

"Nonsense," Madam.. Coach seemed to tsk. "Every witch and wizard learns how to fly a broom."

"I'm not a Magus, and I most assuredly am not. It can't be healthy or safe, and it'll take a lot more then two opals to cross the river when I fall off that thing."

The woman looked downright scandalized. "Mister Potter!"

"My name is Diskopotiro, not Potter. -will you stop gaping like that? Your jaw is open far enough to let in to liontari tis Nemeas."

XXXX-XXXX

Potions was a mess from the moment Professor Snape introduced himself until the very moment the last Gryffindor had fled the room at the bell. Or what constituted a bell in Potions; for some reason, there was a glowing cauldron pot the size of an apple that changed colors every hour, and two stirring spoons of appropriately sized betwitched into a mock swordfight that would routinely knock the 'looser' into the edge every ten mintes or so. At the end of class, they flew to the back of the room and got stuck in the far walls.

Amusing, if no short disturbing.

Coupled with the sense of his Slytherine tattoo squirming and slithering under his skin, among so many of his housemates in the cool, odd-smelling room, Harry had been nearly compelled to ask if there would be a snack party of some sort. There wasn't, but it hadn't helped the compulsion.

The biggest trouble Harry had with the Head of House wasn't that he picked the smallest, mose nervously-disposistioned Gryffindor to antagonize, but that he treated honest to goodness important questions with the sort of disdain Shiva had treated eating range-chicken.

Harry determined to ask Snape some later, hoping that with no one around the House-Parent-Master would be less inclined to show his forked tongue, and secretly hoped Longbottom attended the study group. It might do him good.

"Professor Snape?"

"What, boy?"

Wide-eyed with open curiosity, Harry laid out his most troubling question; and watched bone-pale skin burn red.

"What _are_knickers?"

XXXX-XXXX

"How many mice did you eat?" Harry poked Nagini's leaf-specked scales gently, wondering why she had decided to curl up next to his pillow.

Nagini sounded utterly saited. "An adult and three hairless runts." Babies- young. So she had found a nest then.

"Ah. Don't you regurgitate the hair and bones on the bed."

"Of course not. Now close the curtains already."

Harry shook his head and did so, amused. It was amazing how bossy snakes could be, no matter how small they were. But Nagini would eat well this year, so Harry couldn't complain much.

"Goodnight, Nagini."

"Go to sleep, you."


	5. Who Do You Think You Are

AN: I do read reviews ^^ Posted in my profile is a link to the comprehensive list of all the foreign phrases and words I've used so far. I had to reread previous chapters to find them, starting with Chapter 4, so if you find something you don't recognize, tell me! Also, for native speakers of those languages I use... you must understand I'm a beginner, but I am learning these languages. Any helpful critique you can offer is appreciated.

XXXX-XXXX

Saturday morning, Harry slunk from the darkness of the dorm he shared with Draco and crept down the cavernous hall into the warm, circular common room. The architecture breathed with the old stone, and the whole world seemed to glow a steady, green heartbeat. Harry passed within a finger's breath of the glowing fountain, letting fingertips caress the edge of the stone bowl as he moved.

He hadn't taken much time to seriously poke around the Slytherine House, and that was bad form. But it was the morning of Saturn, and would stay quiet for a good time longer; his curiosity _should_ be uninterrupted for the first time he arrived. An appropriate metaphor was that the whole thing was a writhing serpent's nest on school days.

Which today wasn't, the young Saint mused as he glided into the antechamber.

And froze, staring at the elder students who were scattered around. Several sat in plush chairs, knees tucked up and noses in books. Others were shoulder to shoulder on couches, a single scroll between them. Even more still had found the chess tables.

Harry's hope dissolved. He made to backtrack, hoping to get out of site before he was seen, and decided quickly the Fates were working against him when he bumped into solid matter behind him. A single, strong hand gripped his shoulder, and Harry nearly jerked away.

"Are you all right?"

_Tall_, was his first thought, followed shortly by _sick_. His hair was a pale white, but lacking the shine that promised good health, and combined with pale, thin skin it made him look like a ghost. Harry could see blue veins underneath his jaw from this angle, and swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge find an altar prey to Hekate. It wasn't even an honest preconception; most of his teachings when he'd been very young had been an oddity of half-lost confusion. And none of them painted albino's very nicely.

But Harry looked up further, at glossy pink eyes, and felt all that get pushed away. "You're blind..."

The other's lips quirked up into a gentle smile. "I am."

Confused, Harry glanced down and around, green orbs drawn to the stone floors and landings. "...how do you get around without falling?"

"Very carefully, and sometimes with aid." The young man told him, cocking his head to the side like a bird. And then he smiled a bit wider. "I don't suppose you could walk to the down-step for me? I fear I've lost my count."

"...okay..."

X-X-X-X-X

_A ma_, Harry began, twirling dark ink on pale paper with his brush, welcoming the site as ink began to dry. He had missed writing with familiar characters, this last week, and the letter would be a welcome change from the schoolwork he had attended before. He dipped the tip against his whetstone, removing a bit of ink. The words needed to be fine to be legible, and letters had never been his forte.

"Herja. What is that sound?"

Pale hair shifted in his peripheral, and Harry hesitated in his stroke, listening to the curiosity in Eskel's voice. He tried very hard not to look at him, and would probably do so until he had convinced his mind that Eskel was certainly not a ghost.

The fourth year had decided to sit himself next to Harry while they waited for Snape and the other first-years to arrive. The idea of a Saturday class- whatever a Saturday happened to be- was rather appealing to him, and so instead of wandering off to do his exploring, the young Saint had decided to remain. It was dangerous, to not know his area, but he excelled when there were extra activities for him to partake in. Something, anything, for him to think on instead of pay attention in the ridiculous Transfiguration class.

Magus could say what they wanted. Violating Gaia wasn't something Harry intended to do, not in this life or the next.

Yet, in the loud quiet of the sitting room, Harry had actually managed to forget that Eskel, as he had introduced himself, could not see what he was doing. What he was writing. That he even had a writing board on his lap. Any of it. It was embarrassing that such a detail had slipped from his mind.

"I am writing letters home. Before I left, I promised my parents and my brothers I would write to them as often as I could. But these past few days have been trying my patience." To his credit, Eskel said nothing on the matter of why, and Harry frowned at his paper. Perhaps a letter in his native tongue would be too long... He wasn't sure Hedwig could carry more then one at a time, and he had so been hoping to write to the others and see who had tales to tell.

"It must be very rewarding.. what will you tell them?"

A letter? Rewarding? Yes, if he wrote it well. But he'd never actually had to write to them before, and that was half the problem he was facing now. "That half the classes are pointless."

"They are," Eskel agreed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees."Even the Aesir cannot freely see the future, as Divination claims. Though there might be merit in their cards."

"...oracles?" Harry ventured as he looked over, and found the elder had bridged his fingers beneath his jaw. It was a pose Harry knew well enough. But it was horribly uncomfortable to sit in. Eskel's brow furrowed in confusion. "Those who can see the future? That's what we call them."

"Ah. We do not have a name for them. But it happens on occasion. A..guardian will see a danger to occur upon the settlement, or one of the elders will move us beyond the spread of a coming drought. It is rare. But I have heard the Aesir see their own futures and deaths. It must be disconcerting."

"But you do not like Divination?"

Eskel smiled faintly, turning his head to him, but sightless lids were closed. Though he couldn't see, Harry wondered if the light in the room bothered him. "Herja, nobody goes hunting for omens, for good or ill. It invites trouble, and is more then often not wrong."

X-X-X-X-X

Magus, Harry decided firmly, were entirely _insane_.

This conclusion came to him as the elder students ushered the first years into a classroom he had previously presumed to be empty. It should have been layered top to bottom with dust, but the room had been charmed to project the false sense of being in the woods.

It might have worked, had he not known they were underground.

"Eskel, _please_ tell me there _are_ more classes outside the castle."

"Besides flying lessons?" The elder mused quietly, lips twitching into a smile as they walked. "There is. Not all Slytherine's classes are held in this little room. But it's the first Saturday; the professor has to assign tutors to the first years."

"Why?"

"Because some of you resolutely refuse Transfiguration."

The young Saint ducked his head, cheeks reddening.

X-X-X-X-X

Lucifer Yule accounted as something of Eskel's best friend, near as Harry could figure. They had the same sort of relationship he and Aiacos had- give a little, take a little. He kind of wished he didn't recognize the other from the Feast at the beginning of the year, but he did.

"Awesome, man. You got _Harry Potter_ for your student." The fourth year had been sitting at the end of the table. He remembered seeing him when he walked past to get to Draco; pale skin, lavender eyes. Petite, feminine face.

Eskel tipped his head to the side, just a little.

Harry seethed.

"My name is Diskopotiro. Not Potter. _Diskopotiro_."

"But-"

"The Transfiguration teacher is an over-glorified house-cat and should never have been permitted in a classroom with impressionable youths."

Eskel rested his hands on their shoulders, but his face was turned in Harry's direction, not Yule's. "Perhaps you shouldn't put that in your letter home, Herja. Hogwarts gets better with time. I promise. Let's just find Miss Tanner, and we can give you a proper tour of the castle. Outside of the dungeons, where you may see the beauty."

X-X-X-X-X

"These are the Moving Staircases. They change places every ten minutes-"

Harry stared beyond the redheaded Perfect at the white marble, and then tipped his head up to take in the site of the rest as he tuned out scientific nonsense about how they were built. Virginia wanted to be an architect when she graduated, to follow her Muggle-born father into his choice profession. It was an honorable profession.

It didn't help Harry comprehend the stairs.

"Who's bright idea was it to let blind students in if the staircases move of their own free will?"

He could feel their attention. Virginia's upset at being interrupted, and then the quiet confusion of his question. Eskel's outright blind-sided wonder, as if he had never actually wondered this question himself.

"….that's a good question."

X-X-X-X-X

_Mitera_, the letter began, and Mu ran her fingers over it in fondness. It was touching that even his letter would admit that relationship. Heartwarming, in fact, and she pulled Kiki into her lap so he could read the characters along with her.

First and foremost, her emerald belonged to them before he belonged to Shaka or the other's students, and while she had full intentions of taking these to them soon, they were not moving until this letter was at it's end. The boys could get theirs later.

_Magus are insane._


End file.
